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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: First Night Home

We made our way back to my grandfather's office. I paused and looked at it just as I had this morning. I wanted to return it to its former glory. I took in a long breath and nodded confidently. I would return it to its former glory.

For the duration of the walk, not a peep came from the wooden box strapped to my back—the demon girl, Zela, inside. So much was on my mind; I was feeling overwhelmed.

I had to clean, save my first real patient in Zela, and make Grandfather proud by restoring his office. The first task was the easiest, but the other two made me anxious. I had put up a front that I could save Zela, but deep down, I knew it would be hard.

I opened the door and headed straight for the bedroom. I set the box down and opened it to find Zela asleep in the fetal position. Even when she was asleep, it looked like she was in pain—wincing, her only hand clutching her chest.

She was dirty, and that's when I came to the first realization: there was no bathroom here. There was an outhouse in the backyard, which I remembered using when I was little, but with a physically disabled girl, that wouldn't do. On that same thought, it occurred to me: there was no kitchen. Every time my grandfather and I ate, we went down the street and got some food from a cart.

My mind was racing, panic building up within me. I had thought this would have been easy, but with so many necessities missing, I felt overwhelmed. I took a deep breath and organized the tasks from most to least important.

Zela took priority; everything else could wait. I laid Zela out on the bed and prepared to do a full examination of her current condition. Her leg was my biggest worry. I hadn't been able to get a good view while at the slave house, and after learning it had been sawed off, thoughts of infection popped into my mind. Just thinking of her leg being sawed off gave me chills.

Before I started, I reached into my sack. The sack I carried with me everywhere wasn't an ordinary burlap sack. It was a gift from my father just before I left for Grinwe. It was imbued with spatial magic. Essentially, any item I put in my sack, I could retrieve just by sticking my hand in and thinking about the item. Easily my biggest lifesaver.

I reached in and grabbed my lantern. When I first arrived, lanterns were notably absent from the house—another task added to the list. My only guess was they had been removed to curb the risk of fires. I placed the lantern on the stand next to me and turned it on. More light would have been nice, but this would do.

I removed what was left of her clothes—just a few thin strips of cloth—and focused on her leg. Leg amputations were a common procedure, with wars raging all around. But an amputation just above the knee was quite uncommon. The most common procedures were full leg or below-the-knee amputations.

Removing the bandages from the stump on her thigh, I took a look and breathed a sigh of relief. By some miracle, her wound seemed to be in a good spot. If I had to guess, the incident had happened a few weeks ago. The wound was starting to heal but wouldn't be fully healed for months.

Demons are genetically superior to humans, though I didn't know the extent of it. With her wound in this condition, I would wager demons healed faster.

After confirming Zela's leg wasn't a major issue, I moved to the next point of interest: her eye. I had learned from the man that her fourth owner had removed her eye, though looking at her now, it was difficult to tell. With her eyes closed, there was some light scarring around one eye.

I took a deep breath and lifted her eyelid. A light pink flesh stared back at me. I breathed out quietly. At least in humans, that was normal. Once again, eyes being removed wasn't that uncommon. However, there weren't any treatments for such a thing. Most of the time, you'd be given a fake glass eye or an eyepatch.

Though, on the bright side, there were no signs of infection or major health problems.

Lastly, I moved to examine Zela's hand. While at the slave house, I had seen her hand and deemed it the least of my concerns. Once again, I inspected the rounded-off nub and saw no major issues. The man had said he didn't know how the hand had been removed, but it seemed like a well-performed amputation that had healed nicely.

I looked over her body once more.

I dragged my finger, tracing the "X" scar on Zela's abdomen. I glanced and saw more scars I hadn't noticed before—her breasts, thighs, neck, and practically everywhere had a scar of some kind. Finishing my inspection, I rolled her over onto her stomach, revealing the shocking condition of her back.

Lashes. There were at least a hundred raised marks where a whip had met her skin, and looking closer, I saw marks underneath the marks. I couldn't handle it anymore. It was depressing, knowing I lived among heartless people who could do such things to another.

I rolled her back over and reached into my sack. I packed heavy everywhere I went, thanks to my magical sack. I pulled out a clean pair of undergarments, the comfiest pants I owned, and a shirt for her to wear.

I had worked in geriatric care for a year during my training in Grinwe, so clothing her was an easy task. I moved her to the edge of the bed, slid on the undergarments and pants, then put both her arms through the shirt and slid it over her head.

If I had easy access to warm water, I would have bathed her. However, the only water we had was the spigot out back.

"How did my grandpa live here?" I said aloud, dumbfounded as to how he had run a successful clinic and research facility. Then it dawned on me: Research. The door down the hall. What lay down there? Maybe it had all the answers I sought. I couldn't imagine my grandfather living in a place with no private bathing chambers.

I would investigate it in due time.

I gave Zela the bed. I wanted to clean the sheets but had no means of doing so, so I simply inverted them. I glanced up at the pillows and saw the poor condition they were in. If she laid her head on those, she would be sneezing for days. Do demons sneeze? I assumed as much. Zela had a small nose, which meant she had a trigeminal nerve, so she could sneeze. I shook my head. Still so much to learn.

I walked outside with both pillows and swung them around, slapping them against each other. Each time, a wide plume of dust would shoot off of them. Once I got them cleaned off enough, I returned to the room and placed the pillows on the bed.

"Alright, come here," I said, acting as if Zela were awake, as I picked her up and laid her head gently on the pillow closest to the nightstand. Lastly, I reached into my sack and grabbed a canteen of water. I had a few in my sack for emergencies. I placed it on the nightstand and left the room.

As I exited and shut the door, my stomach growled. Food. The thought had escaped me through the rush of the day. I had no time to eat whatsoever. "Is Zela hungry?"

Probably.

And so, I swiftly returned to the city in search of food. I had emergency rations in my sack but chose to get some food from the city. But I was met with a predicament: "What does Zela like?" A question with no answer.

With no way to know, I grabbed bread, fruit, and a few kebabs with a variety of meats. I purchased the food and thrust it all into my sack. It had some convenient properties. One of which was that when you stored something in the sack, it maintained its exact state while inside until you took it out. So anytime Zela wanted, I could retrieve the kebabs. I took one out for myself and started back.

I finished my kebab on the walk home and entered Zela's room to still find her sleeping.

Thankfully, my sack contained porcelain plates. I took one out and set the load of bread on it, next to which I put a bowl of fruit. I nodded, satisfied with what I had gotten her. I stepped out of the room and closed the door behind me. I wanted to go to bed.

Exhaustion was eating away at me. Today had been a long day, but I chose to grab the hammer out of my sack anyway. I made my way to the front area and removed the boards facing the street. After which, I physically couldn't continue. I took a seat in a dusty waiting room chair and passed out from exhaustion.